While in chains, I, a slave, recognized that black is not only skin deep, but it is also a language, a status, a legacy, an origin, and an understanding. For many of us, slaves, the understanding never comes. For a slave starting in a colored place requires great understanding of how to remain spiritually alive, while his origin chains him to recognize his blackness.
As I matured, I gained some knowledge which taught me the freedom and power of understanding. In my time of transition and spiritual growth, I used to ask myself, what should black means to me? Consequently, I knew that if I was given the opportunity, I would confidently deny my own existence? In my quest for an answer, with no one to aid me in resisting the stigma of my blackness, I believed in the foolish notion, that black is where I find my identity and carrying the consciousness of it was quite burdensome.
Sleeping as a slave is painfully questionable, since I often pondered what color is my rest? Should I not have the privilege, to revel in the superficial state of unconsciousness called sleep? If black frames my sleep, awake my soul your sleep is without reward. While sleep is freedom for all men, black sleep I do not need, so I questioned why the nights are so long. Oh how I wondered what white nights are like? I worked the land from a conscious threshold, but feared the nights because the days are coming too soon. My muscles ached, my hands bled so the freedom of sleep and rest my body could not embraced.
I am that slave, a man desiring to dream, but colored life had swallowed me, so I remained crippled by my blackness. I am black, that is my legacy, my origin, my language, and my understanding, while I live with the courage that black is my status. I live with the enemy of being black, because that is my story.
As a slave, I am convinced that my black skin is an offence to some, but still I had to live to live again. I shared this world but not equally, because I never made an impact on another, because I am black. The pain of blackness in my spirit is from my secret longing to be free from the domain of slavery, but who can escape the endless will, of those who have no charge? Why did I dream of human worth knowing that black is my painful home.
It was a fine line to thread, and my defining moment came when understanding spoke aloud, and hit my spirit deep within. It was in that moment I found the key, which freed my soul from the chains of slavery. I understood that my blackness was not my destiny, but my descriptive journey to freedom and liberation. With understanding, I choose to set my soul on a journey to freedom, as I elevate my thoughts toward my people, yes, my people, slaves, living without understanding.
Thank God, I was spiritually freed by my understanding, and peacefully resigned myself to wearing the scars of a slave. I know that when I cease to be no more, I have died the death of a slave. I understand that in the existence of a slave, the date of birth and the date of death, is synchronized to a single point, which only equal zero, so to this end, I will request, of those who have no charge, on the day when I am laid to rest, there is no reason for a decorative headstone, because this slave, which passed away, as I understood, was never really here!
February 1st, 2015.